


in my veins.

by wolfgangshaw (likeswimmingg)



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: AU, Addiction, Alcohol, Calzona, F/F, F/M, Het Sex, drunk callie, drunk lexie, lexie and Mark live, mark is a fucking dork, post plane crash, slexie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9317207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeswimmingg/pseuds/wolfgangshaw
Summary: What if Derek and Meredith had died instead of Mark and Lexie?orPortland AU





	1. all i want.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and kudos are appreciated. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @bgltshaw.

It’s been a year since the plane crash.

A year since you, Arizona, Callie and Lexie moved to Portland and the four of you collectively opened up your own practice.

A year since you buried one of your best friends and his wife. A year since you and Lexie became Zola’s legal guardians.

A year since you proposed to Lexie Caroline Grey and decided not to waste any more time.

You mindlessly adjust the wedding band on your left hand when you walk into the double doors of Shepherd-Grey Memorial Hospital, a name you and your wife came up with together when you first made the move. You both decided that instead of grieving the people you loved, you'd put your efforts into something positive. Something good.

Lexie finished up her fifth year of residency at Shepherd-Grey as quickly as she could and was now in the middle of her fellowship in Neurology. Derek took the smaller Grey under his wing, so you have no doubts that you'll have to strongly suggest a different program for your head of Neuro soon enough.

You're proud of the work you've done, all that you've achieved since the plane went down. The unconventional family you've built.

You just wish Derek and Meredith were here to see it.

You sink into your chair, and adjust your nameplate that reads:

Mark Sloan, Chief of Surgery.

For years you had aspired to be Chief, but now you find yourself missing being behind a scalpel as often as you were.

Drowning in paperwork was a dull way to live.

You look out at the glimmering seaport - Lexie thought the chief’s office should have the best view in Grey-Shepherd Memorial - and watch as a tugboat passes underneath the bridge. For a moment, you think of Derek, how your best friend would make you tag along to his weekend fishing trips. You were never too keen on fishing, but you always wound up having a good time with him.

Besides, there wasn’t much you wouldn’t have done for that man.

If he was here, you wouldn't feel the way that you do either.

“Mark?”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you must’ve missed Callie knock. You stroke your beard with your fingertips out of habit and sit up straight in your chair. More chief like.

“Dr. Torres. I assume your arthroscopy went smoothly?”

The mother of your child walks further into the room and hands you a thick chart, turned to a specific page. “He’s in recovery, I just need you to sign off on these.”

You cross your t’s and dot your i’s quickly and hand the chart back to Callie. You expect her to leave, but she lingers behind. “Was there something else, Dr. Torres?”

The dark haired woman squishes the hefty paperwork beneath her arm and asks, “Is everything okay? You seem off and you haven’t left your office all day. It's not like you.”

“I’m fine,” you half lie. You are fine. Not good, but not bad either.

“Look, I’m going to be blunt here,” she says, sitting at the edge of your desk. Usually you’d berate one of your employees for doing so, but she co-owns the hospital that paid for your desk. “Arizona hasn’t been the same since the crash. Every time there’s a loud noise or a plane flying overhead, she freaks out. She’s still figuring out how to navigate her life with a prosthetic.”

“Where are you going with this, Torres?” I've got things to do.”

“All I’m saying is, I’m here. I wasn't there when it all happened, and I can only imagine what you all went through in those woods but you’re not the same either, Mark. You’ve closed yourself off. The man I used to know is not behind those eyes,” the woman accused, pointing at your face. “Have you even spoken to Lexie about the days you spent out there?”

“No,” you reveal dejectedly, getting up from your chair and facing out the window toward the seaport. It calms you, you realize. “Truthfully Callie? I don’t even know what I would say,” you sigh.

“Mark, you lost your best friend-”

“She lost everything,” you yell, and you don't mean to, but holding it all in obviously hasn't done you any good. You bang your fist on the glass of the window, shattering it to small pieces. You bring your fist to your line of vision and there’s blood dripping down the side of your hand. Callie grabs a few tissues quickly and applies pressure to your hand, but it doesn't seem to be helping all that much. “She lost her mother and now her sister? Her father was hardly around and now she's lost function in her leg. She's been walking around with a damn cane, Callie. She won't even look at me and I miss her I- I miss Lexie.”

You don't even realize you're crying until you feel a tear fall onto your bloodied hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Mark. I’ll page maintenance about the window.”

You didn’t have any fight left in you to argue with her.

//

_You make your way to Peds as quickly as you can after receiving Arizona’s page. You wonder if Nathaniel, the little boy you operated on last week was rejecting the skin graft you made._

_You never let it show how hard Peds cases get to you, but they always do._

_“Robbins, you paged?” You ask, greeting a few of the nurses at their station. If this was a different time in a different hospital, you'd be leaning over the counter, charming your way into an on-call room._

_But now? You hardly notice whether they're attractive or not - only if they're efficient at their job or not._

_“Chief, let’s talk in private,” the blonde says, directing you to a supply closet on that particular floor._

_“Robbins, if this is about Nathaniel Adeleke, I can schedule an OR for this afternoon for another approach. Maybe a free flap would keep the graft more secure.”_

_“No, no Nathaniel is fine. It's about Dr. Grey,” she reveals, crossing her arms. “You know I wouldn't betray her confidence unless it were serious but- she had a tough time with her microdiscectomy this morning.”_

_“Is she okay?” It's pathetic, but it's all you can offer. “Is the patient all right?”_

_“I'm not sure. I think you should talk to her, Mark.”_

_Easier said than done, you think, but as Chief of Surgery you have a duty to your patients and a reputation to uphold. “I’ll speak to her. Thank you Arizona.” You struggle to get the words out, “I’m grateful that Lexie has you as a friend.”_

_You disappear before the blonde could say anything more. You take the elevator to the large chart hanging on the wall of the surgical floor to see which OR Dr. Grey was located in._

_You scrub into OR three and you find your wife inside of someone’s brain. You’re in awe of her - how delicate she manages to be with a scalpel in her hands. How far she’s come as a surgeon since you met her all those years ago during her intern year._

_You bridge the gap between you and stand adjacent to her, admiring her work._

_“I heard you had a hard day today,” you say, watching her careful hands move through brain matter._

_“You heard or Robbins told you?”_

_Her voice is even, still completely focused on the task at hand. Her mannerisms remind you of another Neurosurgeon you used to know. He was her teacher after all. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”_

_“The patient is fine Chief Sloan,” Lexie says thickly, mocking your title. Even if your wife didn't intend to sound that way, it stung a little where you felt it shouldn't. “You won't have to worry about a lawsuit.”_

_You look her dead in the face, even if she's still laser sharp focused on nerves and tissue._

_“The patient isn't the only reason I came here, Lex,” you huff, continuing to stare at the dark eyes above her surgical mask. “You're my wife. Although sometimes I think you forget that.”_

_You remove your own mask and throw it into the trash aggressively. Before you leave, you stop in front of the double doors momentarily as she mirrors words you've said once - a different time._

_“Yeah, walk away. You're good at that.”_

_And you do, leaving your wife worse off than she was when you scrubbed in with her._

//

You purposely get home late that night. It's Friday - and you're not in the mood to wait for Lexie to get home from, well, wherever it is she goes with Callie and Arizona. So you finish up the last of your paperwork and oversee one of your residents’ first solo surgeries.

Callie told you that Lexie doesn't confide in her and you wonder if she's lent an ear to Arizona, but you don't ask. If your wife wanted you to know how she felt, she'd come to you herself.

You grab a beer from the fridge and throw some leftovers in the oven. In the meantime, you check on your daughters who you put to bed after the sitter left. They're both beautiful girls who've been through so much.

You silently vow to make sure the rest of their lives are as normal as possible.

You're halfway done with your food and flipping through the channels when you hear a crash outside your front door. And giggling. A lot of giggling.

You go to check the source of the noise, but you're sure you know what you'll find on the other side of the door.

“Oh hey Mark,” your wife slurs and then laughs at Callie who's holding her up and chuckling herself.

Arizona beeps from the car and throws a wave your way. Clearly she was the designated driver tonight while you were watching the kids.

“Thanks for taking care of her Torres, but I've got this,” you say, picking up the potted plant Lexie seemed to have knocked over and guide her into the house.

You see that Callie gets back to the car all right and watch her give Arizona a sloppy kiss on the lips and grab her hand. As they pull away from the driveway, you're happy for them, you are, but it makes you incredibly sad to be excluded.

Lexie is sprawled out on the couch and eating the rest of your lo mein with her fingers when you get back. “Did you want a fork? Maybe some chopsticks?”

“No,” she spits out, like your request offended her. Maybe you meant to. “I'm good, thanks.”

She continues scarfing down your food for a while until she freezes. “Mark. I think I'm going to be sick.”

You run and grab the trash can from the kitchen and put it underneath the brunettes mouth. Luckily you had just taken the garbage out.

You hold her hair and run her back as the contents of her stomach spill out into the bin. “It's okay,” you whisper. “You're okay.”

After a few minutes, you think she's done so you grab her a bottle of water. You open it for her and make her drink at least half of the bottle - she's probably dehydrated.

“I'm sorry,” Lexie says, leaning back into the couch. “I'm so sorry.”

And she passes out.

//

_A patient died on your table._

_You did everything you could, but still, a patient died on your table during a simple procedure. Their heart stopped and Dr. Morgan, the head of Cardiothoracics, did everything he could to revive them. But there was a leak and he couldn't get it to stop bleeding._

_You slam your fists into the sink after scrubbing out - you managed to get blood on your hands, the symbolism not lost on you- and you realize you aren't alone. Your wife is standing at the doorframe, saying nothing, just watching your doctors prepare the deceased for the morgue through the glass._

_“Did you need something?” You ask her, and you try not to sound like a dick, you really do, but a patient just died on your table and you don't have it in you for pleasantries with someone who hardly looks in your direction most days._

_Everyone is gone by this point, so when you turn off the sink, it's dead silent. “No, but it looks like you do.”_

_You know what she's implying, but you don't have the desire to fuck in an on-call room right now. “I'm not in the mood, Lexie. Just- just go.”_

_Despite your demand, she knows you. She knows you and you hate that she does right now, because she's shaking her head and walking closer to you. Her eyes are darker than you've seen them in a while and you're fully aware of what it means. You’ve been busy lately trying to keep your numbers up and you haven’t had the time to spend that kind of time with Lexie._

_Or at least that’s what you tell yourself._

_The brunette takes her right hand and wraps it around your neck, pulling you closer and the small contact of her fingertips makes you shudder beneath her touch. Her lips are inches from yours and you can feel everything you've been missing since the last time the two of you did this - only it's been heightened because of the events of your day._

_Lexie leans in closer, but you stop her. “Not here,” you say, and you guide her out of the OR by her arm._

_You wind up in your office - it has a couch, you reason with yourself, but the truth is, you just don't want to feel dirtier than you already do. There's nothing clean about not being able to save a patient._

_You close the door and bless the architect who designed your office because though the large windows are made of glass, no one on the outside can see what's going on._

_You try not to remember that you had the place modeled after Chief Webber’s office._

_You're hardly in the room when Lexie starts kissing your lips and pulling off your clothes in the process. She hardly disconnects from you when she pulls off her lab coat and scrubs, leaving herself in only her bra and her matching thong._

_You wonder if she had planned to fuck you in your office today, but you don't dwell on it too much. Instead, you shove her against your desk and plant kisses down Lexie's neck while she presses her hand to your bulge over your briefs - the only article of clothing you still have on._

_The brunette’s breaths grow deeper and shorter as you hit her pulse points and you're so fucking turned on by her touch. You run your hands along her body - you dig your fingernails into her back and a resonating moan escapes her throat. In turn, she grabs your dick harder and faster and yeah, you've long forgotten about the dead patient that was lying open on your table just an hour ago._

_You unclasp Lexie's bra with your thumb and middle finger in one swift motion and immediately draw your hands to her breasts, kneading them and rubbing soft circles on her nipples with your fingertips. You're using more tongue in your kisses and she pulls you closer to her so she can rip your briefs off._

_She leaps off the desk, still holding onto your cock by her hand and gets on her knees. You don't normally ask her to do this, but she takes you into her mouth without hesitation - and you weren't strong enough to protest anyway._

_You run your fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face so you can see it while she sucks. She's beautiful and turned on and you try not to think about anything else but being with her right now._

_“You’re so bea-”_

_“Shut up,” she says, detaching her mouth from you and standing back up. She takes the last of her own clothes off and hops back on your desk, pupils blown. Lexie was seemingly set out for only one thing. “Just- Just fuck me.”_

_You nod and pull her closer to you by her hips and kiss her neck, her collarbone, her stomach, everywhere you possibly can while teasing her clit with your fingers. She's grabbing at your dick again, growing harder from the combination of the brunette’s touches and her moaning underneath you._

_You make the decision to knock the few items off of your desk with your arm, including some important documents, but you couldn't give a fuck right now if you tried. She situates herself better and you place both your legs on either side of her body, climbing further down so you can reach her center._

_You kiss down her bikini line while continuing to tease her clit with your fingers. She's really wet, so you stick two fingers into her folds and take her clit into your mouth._

_This wasn't necessarily what she'd asked you to do, but when it comes to sex, you were nothing if not thorough. “Mark,” she pants, grabbing at your chest, but not quite being able to reach anywhere further. “Fuck.”_

_Her back is arched off the desk and it's so fucking hot that you stroke your cock a few times before slipping your tongue inside her._

_It's her favorite move of yours by a landslide._

_“Mark, fuck,” Lexie moans, pulling your hair with one hand and shoving your face further into her with the other. “Please.”_

_It's all you need to pull yourself up and slip yourself inside of her. You have your hand wrapped around Lexie's throat, like she likes it when you're on top, and she feels so fucking good around your cock._

_Making love to your wife never gets old, especially now. It's the only connection you've been able to maintain in all of this, but you're not sure she sees it the same way that you do._

_Lexie pushes you slightly so she can dismantle herself from you, and climbs on top, riding you instead. You don't allow her to do much of the work, instead you grab her hips and make the movements for her._

_Watching her on top of you almost sends you over the edge, but you try to hold it in so she can come first. That alone would instantly make you come yourself._

_You free one hand from her hip so you can wrap your hand around her throat again and apply just the right amount of pressure. Lexie's still riding your cock and an increasingly fast rate. Her breaths growing more ragged, moaning your name._

_You don't hold back your own grunts anymore and go back to moving her hips with your hands. You're on the verge of coming before she releases another slew of swear words and “I'm gonna come.” You're both hitting climax, you can sense it, and it feels way too good physically and emotionally to pull out._

_And as she comes on your dick as the same time you finish she doesn't let you._

_You stay inside of her for a moment while everything slows down - your breathing and your heart rates - but she eventually climbs off of you and lays on your chest._

_“I love you,” your wife, your world whispers in your ear. Lexie climbs off of you quickly and throws her scrubs back on, like she said something embarrassing, like she'd never said those words to you before._

_She's out the door in record time and you utter a soft, “I love you too” to the closed door._

//

“Dr. Sloan?”

You've been sitting in the hospital psychiatrist’s office for twenty minutes now, staring into your lap. What a waste of time.

“Chief Sloan, you scheduled this session yourself. While I know it isn't mandatory to talk, I think you have something you need to get off of your chest,” Dr. Porter hypothesized. She was a nice enough woman - you hired her yourself, but right now you wanted to be doing anything but this.

“I um. I-” You attempted to talk about how you and your wife have been estranged for months. How after your wedding and your move out here something shifted.

How she often initiates sex every so often, but you never speak. How it's rough and desperate, but far from loving because you don't see the woman you love anymore when you look at her.

How she's still the most beautiful woman you think you've ever known in your life, but you can't find her.

So you talk about something safer. “I hate paperwork.”

It's a start.

//

_It’s Zola’s third birthday and the four of you decide that it needed to be really special this year._

_Arizona and Lexie went to the shops and bought streamers, party hats, and a pinata, which you’re positive the adults will wind up destroying anyway. You provide the drinks and snacks along with the meat and bee themed napkins and plates (bees are her favorite, it was the least you could do)._

_“The Castillos should be over by 4 with Julio and Janet said she and Zoe would be here at 3:30,” Lexie tells Arizona and Callie._

_You throw your kiss the chef apron on and ask your wife if she needs anything before you check on your meat that’s been marinating all night in the refrigerator._

_“I think we’re set, Mark,” she replies, the distance in her eyes something you’re familiar with. Since the crash, Lexie has spent more time with Arizona - Callie informed you that they bonded after working on a particularly heartbreaking Peds case. The blonde’s amputation of her leg and Lexie’s loss of function in hers paved the way for a long overdue friendship. They would go out for drinks at a small dive bar not far from Grey-Shepherd a few times a week, food tastings, even the grocery store when it was impossible for you to get there yourself._

_You wanted your current best friend’s wife and your wife to get along, you’re just not sure that Lexie favoring time with Arizona over you was was what you had in mind._

_“I didn’t realize how much big Sloan loved cooking,” you overhear Arizona tell Lexie over a glass of wine._  
_“Mark’s a great cook,” your wife says loud enough for you to hear, and your head snaps to her. She's beautiful, you think, but so very broken. You smile at her and you know it reaches your eyes, because she manages to nod in your direction before turning back to Arizona and changing the conversation._

_You long for the way things used to be. Derek was your brother and Callie was your best friend for sure. But before the crash, if anyone had asked you who your best friend was, you’d say Lexie Grey._

_But now?_

_The woman playing with your adopted daughter you hardly recognize._

_Lexie is looking at Zola like she’s her world - everything she loves and everything she’s lost in the tips of her fingers - and then she looks at you, and you know something is different about her. You just can't figure out what._

_You go outside and begin throwing veggie burgers on the grill before you could find out._

_You're flipping chicken and steak when you hear the screen door open and shut behind you._

_“Smells good out here,” Lexie says cautiously, nursing a beer this time. “Do you need anything?”_

_“I- No, I'm okay. Thank you,” you nod. Mrs. Shepherd always taught you never to play with your food, but you're pushing eggplant and squash up and down the grill for sport._

_You expect your wife to leave, but she lingers, coming up next to you as you shut the grill so the rest of the food can cook for your guests._

_“Zola looks so happy with Sofia and her friends here,” she half smiles. “I'm happy we could do that for her despite-”_

_Lexie stops herself, because if she continued saying what she was saying it'd mean you'd have to talk. The very thing you've been avoiding since you tied the knot tied up to your respective IVs._

_“Kids are adaptable,” you manage, reflecting on what Addison would say in between silences way back when. “My girls are fighters.”_

_“You have two very strong children Mark. You're a lucky man.”_

_“I know. And I wasn't just talking about Zola and Sofia,” you explain, lifting the cover to the grill and resuming your grilling duties._

//

“So Chief Sloan. We talked all about how you miss performing as many surgeries for the last few sessions. And we...touched on the trauma you experienced last year,” Dr. Porter says, adjusting her glasses with her pointer finger. She has about ten years on you, which doesn't quite make her old enough to be your mother, but she sure has the air of one.

You really need to call Mrs. Shepherd.

You have the decency to look guilty for what Dr. Porter is saying. You have been dancing around the heart of your issues, because you're terrified that she's going to tell you that you aren't fixable. That your marriage isn't either.

“Okay. Well what about surgery? Have you figured out a way to make yourself happier at work?”

Again, you just sit there and look guilty.

“Dr. Porter, I don't even know how to talk about my issues, how am I supposed to fix my life? My marriage?”

You stare out the window at a bird perched on the frame of the glass. You wish you could take flight like she could - the endless possibilities you could have if you just let yourself.

“Well now we're getting somewhere,” the older woman smiles.

“How is any of what I said ‘getting somewhere?’”

“Not to get all psychologist on you, but if I can recall, the first step is admittance. You're admitting you don't know how to put yourself or your marriage back together. That's hell of a something, Dr. Sloan.”

You allow yourself to be proud for a moment, but you don't let the feeling linger for too long. You have a lot of work to do.

“Things have been bad, doc,” you sigh, not meeting Dr. Porter’s eyes. You tell the woman about your relationship with Lexie, how you have to hide what's going on from your kids. How Callie and Arizona have been saving your asses when they have their own shit to work through.

It feels good to get it off your chest.

“I think something's shifting though,” you nod. “I feel like things are getting better. I don't know how, but- I think they are.” You tell her about Zola's birthday and how your wife came to you first without picking a fight or initiating sex. Something she hasn't done for a year. “I think Lexie and I are going to be ok, I can feel it I- I love her so much and I- I think we're going to be okay.”

“I think you're right, Chief. You're getting there,” Dr. Porter smiles. “You're getting there.”

//

You decide to build a treehouse.

Whatever this rough patch is with Lexie, you feel like it's nearing some kind of head, even if you aren't talking about it. You're communicating, even if it's about trivial things. You're just glad you're able to be civil with the woman you're so hopelessly in love with, so you're building a treehouse.

Lexie's had to go in for an emergency Craniotomy, so you decide to work on this - you'd went to Lowe’s for wood, screws, sandpaper and other materials you needed and began working on it straight away. After a few hours of hard work, you had a solid foundation for the treehouse.

You’re working on the platform when you hear a voice from the ground.

“Hey,” the brunette calls up the ladder.

“You’re home early,” you yell down, wiping some sweat off of your brow. It’s dark outside and drastically colder, but the exertion of power drilling and hammering away all day has your body temperature at an accelerated rate.

“Yeah, well. Turns out there was a mix up with the Chief Resident and- it doesn’t matter, actually. Have you and Zola eaten dinner yet?”

You move a few wooden boards around until they’re lined up to their proper position. “Zola’s with Callie and Arizona, I hope that's okay,” you say, hammering away at a particularly temperamental nail.

“Of course it's okay,” Lexie says in between the loud noise. “Mark, not to sound daft but- what are you doing?”

You think about telling her, you do, but you're steps ahead of this place you're in with your wife. It's not really surprising - you've always jumped the gun in your relationship, but you don't want to scare her off this time.

You're ready to do things right, when you're both ready for it. The treehouse will take time, you just hope you'll be past this by the time it's finished.

“Can't tell you that Little Grey,” you mutter, taking a sip from the mug with a stethoscope on it. A gift from Sofia from Father's Day this year.

“You haven't called me that in a long time, Mark,” Lexie says, looking you in the face - hers lost in memories, you're sure. “Do you think- do you think we can get back there?”

The question is vague, but you know exactly what Lexie means. “No,” you answer truthfully, taking the seat across from her. “But we can move forward.”

“We've been doing this dance for so long that I'm not sure we can,” the brunette counters, tears welling up in her eyes.

At least you know she can still feel. You know now that Lexie has been dealing silently, while you were pushing every thought of the messes of your life of the past year from your mind completely.

Everything seems so clear now in the chill of a Portland evening.

“A treehouse.”

Lexie looks completely confused. “What?”

“It's a treehouse. I'm building a treehouse,” you nod off to the few hunks of wood in the biggest oak in your backyard. You exhale heavily into the night and brace yourself for what you're about to say next.

“There's a reason why we're here. There's a reason we survived, Lex. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize why.  
“What we have? It transcends life. It transcends death and I'm ready. I'm ready, but some things must fixed first. Something,” you amend. “We need to fix ourselves, us, so that we can continue our life together.”

Lexie looks like she wants to bolt and run as she takes in your words, but to your sheer luck she doesn't.

She just sits and lets what you've said sink in, so you let her for a little while and go back to hammering away at the treehouse.

But before you do, you tell Lexie, “It’s for our kids. The treehouse. I know we’re already a family, you, me, Zola and Sofia, but- I love you and Ii want to have a baby with you. I want to look at my kid and see your eyes in him. That's what I'm doing.”

You leave her there, stunned.

//

Lexie brings you hot chocolate and a padded sweatshirt after a while.

The gesture shocks you, because like other little moments you've had recently, it seems genuine, not mechanical like things have been. She sets the mug down on the table on the deck and sits, sipping from her own steaming cup.

You slide the sweatshirt over your head and go retrieve the coco. When Lexie hands you the mug, you realize this - and her kindness toward you at Zola's party - you realize this is an olive branch.

Something is shifting, even now, and you think you've figured out why. She’s trying.

“Remember when I thought I was dying underneath that hunk of metal from the plane and I told you to tell Meredith that she was a good sister?” Truth is, you try to forget that moment as best you can, but you nod for Lexie’s sake. For her to keep opening up to you for the first time in a long time. “I lied. I didn’t want to die and leave her to think that she...that she could’ve done more. But Mark? She could’ve done more and I am so angry at her for that.”

You wipe the tears from her eyes as delicately as you can and interlace the fingers on your right hand with her left. “It’s okay to be angry, Lex.”

“It’s not,” she sniffles and more tears fall. “I feel so guilty for walking around with this feeling all day. When I’m charting, in surgery, on my walk home. I feel so angry and guilty and I try not to take any of it out on you. So it’s better to not talk about it. The same way I’m sure it’s easier for you to not talk about how a part of you died when you lost Derek.”

It’s hard to look at your wife when the truth falls from her mouth as it does. She’s right, and after bottling your feelings for so long, you figure it’s time to give the love of your life a break.

“I- I started seeing the counselor at the hospital,” you whisper. “To deal with things a little better. But I didn’t want to talk about Derek with him until I talked to you.”

Lexie shifts herself closer on the bench and runs her fingers through your hair as you speak. “You could’ve talked to him, Mark. I wouldn’t have been angry.”

“It seemed...wrong somehow. It’s just- he wasn’t just my best friend, Lexie. Derek was my brother. I’ve known him my entire life. His mother practically raised me.”

“I remember,” Lexie smirks, and you do too for a moment, remembering when Mrs. Shepherd came to town when he and Lexie began seeing each other.

But you remember that her only son is now dead, and your wife allows you to rest your head on her shoulder. She moves her fingers to your cheeks and plays with your beard hair, something she usually does when she thinks you’re asleep.

“I went to Seattle for Derek because I missed him too much, not because of Addison. And now I don’t know how to enjoy a life that doesn’t include my brother.”

“We both lost a lot that day, didn’t we,” Lexie says, wiping a stray tear from your face. You shift and turn your head so you can look at your wife properly, meeting her eyes for the first time in months.

“We did, but I’m so thankful I didn’t lose you in all of this, Lex,” you choke, cupping your wife’s cheek and she crashes her lips into yours hard. “I love you so much.”

You both feel yourselves letting go as you tangle your fingers into her dark hair and she wraps her arms around your neck. “I love you too,” she says through her tears.

Kissing Lexie feels like you were in limbo, and you’re finally coming home. It’s knowing that this conversation, and the many conversations that will probably occur after this one, was the solace you both needed.

Tangling yourself into your wife makes you feel like everything is going to be okay.

“So. Wanna bolt some screws?” You ask, revving the drill enthusiastically. You love drills. Lexie, seemingly had other plans.

“No, the saw oh my god that looks so fun,” she says, nearly knocking you over while running to the power tool. All you can do is smile widely at the woman you love, a smile that finally reaches your eyes for the first time since the plane crash.

She’s back, you think. And you’re getting there yourself, one day at a time.

“Oh and I probably should've mentioned before,” the brunette says, sliding your goggles onto her face, saw in hand, “I'm pregnant.”


	2. open your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story wound up being longer than I thought it would. Looks like there will be about 3 chapters, but who knows. 
> 
> I know Slexie has been dead since 2012, but I just discovered them and they mean so much to me. Hope you enjoy this next installment. 
> 
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated, and as always, all mistakes are my own since I am without a beta.

"Should you be carrying those in your condition?”

It's Christmas Eve and you're thankful that your husband is this protective over you and your child, but overbearing doesn't begin to cut it. _In a kind of adorable way_ , you think.

“Mark, they're ornaments and candles for the window,” you grin, shaking your head. He throws his hands up in faux surrender and starts helping you anyway, because Mark just can't help himself. “Arizona just called, she and Callie are coming for dinner around 8, and then we can open gifts right after. We don't want to keep the girls up too late.”

Mark just smiles stupidly at you in the way that you love. He puts some of the ornaments down and wraps his arms around your waist. “You're already a natural at this mother thing, you know that?”

“You won't be saying that in a few years. I'm building a small army right under your nose and you don't even know it. One day,” you lean into him and his breath hitches slightly, “I may just attack.”

You walk back over to the box of ornaments, and your husband pulls you into him carefully and kisses you. You're reminded of the months that the two of you weren't like this, and you're thankful you took steps in trying to heal yourself, and ultimately, your marriage.

You were both in therapy still, but communicating more and isolating yourselves less made all of the difference. You owed it to your kids to fix things at the very least.

Now, your family was growing and for the first time since the plane crash, you have the rest your life together to look forward to. Even if you're not able to walk properly yet.

Deep down, it's what you've always wanted. Even if you were scared of it initially.

You finish hanging garland and ornaments on the tree (it doesn't take too long thankfully, bless prelit trees from Target) and check on the cookies you had in the oven. When you open the appliance though, tons of smoke pours out into the kitchen and the fire alarm sounds.

“Lexie,” Mark yells from the living room, running towards the cacophony surrounding you. “What happened?”

You turn off the oven quickly and start fanning the area near the smoke detector with a pot holder. “It's fine, I'm just never baking again,” you say, and Mark laughs thickly, opening the back door to let some of the smoke out.

He tries his best to hide it, but you know he has issues with loud noises and you silently berate yourself for it. You never want to add anxiety or post traumatic stress to Mark’s life.

Eventually the alarm shuts off and you sigh in relief. Your holiday cookies are sad and burnt, but at least your husband is still laughing a full laugh this time.

You throw him a dirty look that doesn't reach your eyes and he smiles. “Well, we both know I didn't marry you for your cooking.”

“Oh laugh it up,” you say slipping oven mitts on, dumping the tray into the trash. “I can take care of two kids at a time, navigate brain matter,memorized the entire periodic table, but somehow can't cook for shit.”

“It's adorable,” Mark says, and kisses your hair. “Although you're lucky you have me and Callie. She's bringing empanadas and la ropa vieja and I have steaks on the grill.”

You're glad Mark loves cooking so much, otherwise you and the kids would be hopeless. Stuck ordering Thai or pizza every night and we'll, that's no healthy way to live.

“What would Arizona and I do without the two of you?” you throw sarcastically.

As if on cue, there was a knock at your door and before you knew it Sofia was running into the living room, her mothers not far behind. Mark had Zola in his arms already, having just awoken from her nap, so she could greet her cousin turned adopted sister.

You feel lucky that you and Mark have Arizona and Callie's support - not just in helping with Sofia and Zola, but as friends and as colleagues. 

You had a decent household growing up, but the last few years it seemed like you only had pieces. With your mom dying, your father taking up drinking as a hobby, Molly starting her own family and Meredith...well, you weren't running the best track record when it came to family.

Part of you missed Seattle, but things weren't the same anymore. Moving forward with a new family who felt similarly to you was the right choice. Looking at Arizona laughing with your daughters, Mark and Callie talking while setting the table, and the Christmas-y backdrop you realized this is the first time since your mother died that you've had something to come home to.

After dinner, you helping Callie clear the table and take care of the dishes while Mark gets the girls into pajamas. Arizona was on the phone outside talking a resident through a procedure because one of her patients was coding.

“Peds must be so difficult,” you point out, drying off one of the plates with a dish towel. “I can't imagine…”

“Don't,” Callie warns, taking some Lysol wipes to the kitchen table. “Don't even go there.”

You internally chastise yourself again, remembering being there for Mark while Callie was in surgery. Fighting for she and Sofia’s life. “I'm sorry, that was insensitive of me.”

Callie just shrugs it off. “No worries, Grey. I'm just thankful for what we have. That Arizona and I have you two,” the raven haired woman smiles softly.

Your heart swells. You're lucky that you're fond of your husband’s best friend and her wife. It makes everything so much easier to navigate.

You limp to the cabinet put a dish away and squeeze Callie's arm. “We’re so thankful for you both too.”

 

//

 

_“C’mon Lexie, two more. One more,” Dr. Coleman encourages as you do your gliding exercises. Michael Colman is the best physical therapist in the Portland area - Mark called in some favors and saw to it that you got the best care possible. He laid out a treatment plan that could get your leg mobility back up twenty percent more than they were._

_It was a long shot, you knew because you deal with nerves on a daily basis, but you discussed it at length with your therapist and your husband and thought it was worth a try._

_Six months in and it turns out Mark was right - your knees are buckling less and the exercises are getting easier as you go. You make a mental note to text Arizona about your progress after you get out._

_“I think I’m about ready for a marathon, Dr. Coleman,” you joke, wiping a bead of sweat off of your brow._

_Your physical therapist chuckles and adjusts his glasses. “Not quite, Dr. Grey. Time for your next set of exercises.”_

Where's your sense of humor,  _you think and begin your next set of movements._

_“Doc,” you ask, slowly running out of breath as you increase your reps. “I know I'm a doctor and deep down, I know the probability of me regaining all of the feeling in my leg is extremely low but- I have to ask. Is there any chance t-that I- Is it possible?”_

_Dr. Coleman pushes his glasses up to his nose and sighs._

_“Dr. Grey. You and I both know that any trauma to the body will be a tough recovery,” he says, shifting your foot a bit during one of your knee bends. “But you've been doing everything you can. Working your legs as efficiently as possible. You've regained more function than I thought you would, in all honesty. And you're_ pregnant _on top of all of it, for Christ sake._

_“So yes, I do think it's possible, but be proud of yourself, Lexie. You've showed up for every session you've had in the last ten months, ready to work and it's paid off. Be proud.”_

_You smile widely and nod. “I’m trying to be, Dr. Coleman. I’m trying.”_

 

//

 

“Mark. _Mark,”_ you yell while laughing. Your husband’s hefty hand is covering your eyes while his other one guides you forward - or whatever direction you appear to be going. “Where are you taking me?”

He's careful with you - even though you're a lot better off since the crash, you can't move nearly as well as you used to.

You can hear the smirk in Mark’s voice when he says, “Just keep your eyes shut little Grey and let me do the walking.”

You giggle and place your hand on your now extremely swollen belly out of habit. You found out you were having a boy and Mark was so ecstatic that he went out and bought more baseball equipment than anyone ever needed.

A few weeks later though, he returned it all and told you, _“I don't know if my kid will even like baseball. Maybe he'll like dresses. I'll let him decide what he wants and I'll buy it all.”_

You could hardly disagree with that.

He finally slows you down after nearly knocking you over a bunch of times and you peel his hand off of your face. The sight in front of you isn't exactly one you expected.

“A bar, Mark? You're taunting me with beer I can't drink for another couple of months?”

“Look closer, Lex,” he says, pointing at the sign hanging over the bar.

“Portland Joe’s. Wait a minute. Joe’s? There's been a Joe’s in our town this whole time and I never knew about it?” You hugged and Mark just held you close from behind.

“I came across it a few months ago with some of the members of the board. Joe was doing so well that he opened up a bar in LA and now,” Mark held his hand out for emphasis, “here. I know our anniversary isn't officially until next month but Joe’s is where I started to fall for you, little Grey.”

The memory hits you like a ton of bricks and you feel it in your toes. Or maybe they're just swolen, who knows. “The periodic table. That was an incredible night.”

“Yeah. You blew my mind completely,” Mark whispered, giving you a soft open mouthed kiss. You reveled in it for a moment, and pressed your foreheads together. “For an intern.”

You shoved his chest in faux hurt, “fuck off. I was an excellent intern.”

“We can talk about all of that over dinner. Where it all began - kind of. What do you say Mrs. Grey-Sloan?” 

He interlaces his fingers with yours. 

“I'd love to, Mr. Sloan.” 

 

//

 

 _You're released from the hospital a month after the crash, but still have to do outpatient physical therapy. You don't know how you manage it while Mark and Arizona still lay in hospital beds at Seattle Grace, but they get better day by day._  

_Eventually, Arizona joins you at physical therapy - you schedule it so you can keep Sofia and Zola at the daycare center in SGH while Callie spends time with Mark, monitoring him._

_You can't see him hooked up to those machines that way, you can't. He’s alert some days and others he just looks tired - although who wouldn't after multiple surgeries._

_“Grey? Are you alright?”_

_You've just finished your third session of therapy and you're all tapped out. Arizona looks concerned though, so you sit with her until your nurse can wheel you to the daycare to pick up Zola._

“ _You know, i could say I'm fine, I could but,” you trail off for a moment. “But frankly Arizona? Everything is_ terrible. _You lost your leg and Callie is going out of her mind trying to chauffeur you and I around while trying to take care of the kids. Mark is fighting for his life everyday and I'm not sure if one day I'm going get a call that he's- and Meredith and Derek are-”_

 _“Hey,” Arizona grabs your hands in hers. “I know. I_ know _. I've been so incredibly angry at Callie for this- for just chopping off my damn leg like it was nothing. Without even asking me. And now? We have to live with it._ I _have to live with this, this-,” she points to the prosthetic, “excuse for a leg.”_

_You know for a fact that there's nothing you can say to make any of this better so you just nod in agreement. “And I may never walk the same ever again, but considering I was pinned down by a chunk of plane? My survival rate only a fraction of a percentage? I shouldn't be complaining. I'm sorry.”_

_You have the decency to look ashamed, but Arizona isn't having any of it._

_The two of you never really bonded before this - you really only spent time together a few times when you were on her service or when you'd have dinner with she and Callie on the rare chance that the four of you had the night off._

_But right now? You feel like you're forever tied to Arizona and even Cristina Yang who you check up on from time to time._

_“Kid, you're a survivor, okay? To think that you're anything less than a miracle...you_ lived-”

“ _But my sister and her husband didn't,” you counter the blonde, finally addressing the elephant in the room. “And Mark may never wake up.”_

_It's that last one that causes a stray tear to fall from your face. Arizona is quick to wipe it with her thumb and takes your face in both of her hands._

_“If there's anything I learned about Mark Sloan, it's that he's a pain in the ass. He's too stubborn to die,” the blonde laughs lightly. “He's going to wake up, and when he does, you're the first thing he's going to want to see.”_

_Another bed of tears stream down your face and you nod. You know what Mark would want when he wakes up - what's been a long time coming._

_You make some calls later that night._

 

//

 

_Mark wakes up thirty six hours later and though you're in a conflicted place, you know that this is what he's always wanted. If you're being honest with yourself, you've always wanted this too, but you were always too scared to reach out and grab it._

_You saw what love did to people - your parents, Izzie and Alex, Meredith and Derek. The list goes on._

_Love was difficult, so when Sloan showed up, you ran. And when Mark told you about Sofia? Well, it was almost as if the universe was playing some sort of cosmic joke on you._

_But you realize now that all Mark ever wanted was a family. And though you were too young and too immature to handle it at the time, you knew now that it was just fear getting in the way of your happiness._

_Mark never had any intentions of excluding you from the family he was trying to build. The words_ I'm saying you could have a husband and _I'm in love with you. I have always been in love with you. I will always be in love with you play in your mind._

 _They play over and over like a record, and you know that despite where you are emotionally, that this is what you want ultimately._  

 _“Lex,” Mark calls out, his voice hoarse from the tube that's been down his throat for weeks. “You're okay. You're alive.”_  

_You grab his hand and pull it to your chin with both hands, just happy to see him talking, awake. “I'm just fine,” you smile through gritted teeth. You're not fine, not by a long shot, but you will yourself to be as happy as you possibly can be under the circumstances._

_You spend about an hour with Dr. Bailey and Callie and the Chief checking the vitals of the man you love, but they assure you that the worst is over. That Mark is out of the woods. You never have to be in those woods ever again._

_Once Mark seems well enough and you've given him water and fluids in his IV you bring in the minister. Mark looks confused for a moment, but when he realizes what you've done, he starts crying._

_“Are you sure?”_

_“I've never been more sure of anything in my life,” you say, crashing your lips with his gently. “Life is too short.”_

_He nods and asks that you adjust the bed so he's sitting up at least and you do._

_You get into the bed with him and grab his hands while the minister recites the words written in his book._

_“And now time for the vows,” the minister says. “Alexandra? Do you want to go first?”_  

_You nod and try your best to form coherent sentences. You had something written, but you decided to chuck it last minute - even if your photographic memory didn't let you forget what you'd wrote._

_“When I came back here after med school, it was in a tizzy. Nothing made sense, you know. My mother died because of the hiccups, my dad became a mess that I didn't recognize and all of a sudden there was this sister,” you stop yourself. “Nothing made sense when I came here, until I met you. You were this unattainable, incredibly sexy attending who for some reason cared about me above everyone else._

_“You've always had my back, my best interest at heart, even if you weren't what I wanted at the time. You were always making sure I was happy but what you never realized, I think, is that I've always been happiest with you. And not you in my corner, but by my side. Making me laugh, making me feel like I'm worth something._

_“You help me be a better me just by being around and I love you so much for that. And I can't wait to keep growing with you for the rest of our days.”_

_Mark’s eyes are swollen with tears and he chokes back a sob. He squeezes your hands and exhales, seemingly preparing himself for his turn._

_“If I look back on myself,_ really _look back, I've always wanted to be something more than just a kick ass surgeon and an amazing lover,” he starts, and you shake your head immediately. Your boy is back. “I wanted to be more than what met the eye but I never knew how._

_“I tried a few times, but nothing ever seemed to stick. But with you? I didn't have a choice but to be better. I didn't have to try because your light drew me in like a moth, an energy I couldn't stay away from._

_“I never thought I could be a father, in a committed relationship without wanting something more. I never knew I could be more until you and for that, I'm eternally grateful and bound to you._

_“You are my best friend, the person I want to raise children with, the woman I want to be laughing with when I'm older and greyer. And I realize now that like you, nothing ever made sense until I met you. You're my light, my soulmate, and I will love you until the end of this life and into the next one.”_

_You're both tear stained, happy to even be here, alive, survivors. But you're together and now you're bound together in the eyes of the law, even if you feel like avoiding this moment was inevitable._

_“By the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister grins, and Mark kisses his bride with all of the fervent desperation you think he's ever possessed through a sea of tears trickling down from both of your faces._

 

//

 

“Did you know he was coming?” Mark asks you, staring out of the window at the parked car in front of your home. You never expected him to show up - you haven’t returned his calls in a long time. Not since his tattooed girlfriend Danielle _or whatever her name was_ came into his life.

You know it wasn’t fair, you did want your dad to be happy. But you couldn’t stand to see him with her - someone who was practically your own age.

“No, I haven’t spoken to him in months,” you tell him honestly, looking out at the window with him. Thatcher Grey looks like he’s preparing himself to come inside, which you’re used to. He was never good with confrontation - it was always your mother’s strong suit. “I can’t believe he’d just show up like this.”

Your husband nods, and you know he’s trying to gauge your reaction properly. “Well you wouldn’t return his calls, Lex. I guess he figured the only way to reach you was to just, y’know,” he explains pointing at the beat up car outside, “Come to our house.”

Mark usually manages to be what you need him to be for you and you’re so unbelievably in love with him. Always putting you first. Always considering your feelings. But right now, he’s making sense.   

“I guess I’ll just wait until he’s ready to come in,” you decide, sighing heavily and running a hand through your hair.

“I’ll put up some tea,” your husband says, putting a hand on your shoulder. You interlace your fingers in his for a moment until he leaves for the kitchen and sigh heavily again.

After about twenty minutes, you watch Thatcher make his way to your front door. When the doorbell rings, you straighten out your shirt and brace yourself for what's about to come.

“Lexie, you- you look fantastic,” your father says to you. You know he's lying because you've just had a baby and you're tired and stressed from being up with Derek Jr. every night. “Can I come in?”

You nod and Mark is standing at the doorframe of the kitchen. He doesn't want to impose, but Thatcher greets him politely and they shake hands. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Grey.” 

You shoot a small smile at your husband - and he nods at you. You're so grateful for him. _I'm going to thank him for this later in spades._

Mark offers your father some tea and Thatcher agrees, sitting down at the table. Mark kisses your head and whispers, “I'm gonna get ready for work. You let me know if you need me.”

Your husband disappears upstairs and you join your father, placing the boiling water from the kettle into the two cups Mark had set out on the counter.

“So, I heard I have a grandson?” The trepidation and excitement in his voice is apparent. It irks you.

“You heard?” It's a stupid question, you know. But you feel compelled to ask it anyway. 

“Richard told me. We've kept in touch a bit more since,” he pauses and looks out, as if reflecting on something. Or trying to forget it. “I've wanted to visit for a while now. Get a chance to meet him, but you haven't been returning my calls.”

You're a bit surprised at his candor, but you settle his tea down in front of him and sip on yours while you join him.

“Well, at least you had the decency to come alone,” you nearly spit out. You sigh, because really, this shouldn't be about his way too young girlfriend. “I'm not sure I want you meeting Derek.”

“Derek?”

“Derek Grey-Sloan, my son. I don't know if I want you in his life, dad,” you explain, sipping on your tea. The irony isn't lost on you, because you're about to go off on Thatcher, you can feel it.

“I'd ask why, but I think I know, Lexie,” the older man says, leaning back in his chair. “I haven’t been the best father.”

You want to be nice, you do. But after everything you’ve been through in the last few years, you’re tired. You just don’t have it in you anymore.

“‘Haven’t been the best father?’ Are you kidding me?” You get up out of your chair, because you can’t bear to sit. “Dad, where have you been? Mom died and you disappeared into a bottle every night. Then, you drink yourself to the point where you need a new liver and _that’s_ when you decide to pop back into my life. You probably wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Meredith.

“And then you show up again with your young, attractive new girlfriend who I didn’t know about who’s the _same age as me._ And Meredith and I were so close to finishing our residencies, but no - we had to get into a plane crash and she _died_ , she just- she just bled out and _died_ , so I’ll ask again. _Where the hell were you?”_

Your father looks off out the window. He can’t even look at you because he knows you’re right. You’re too emotionally tired to deal with him and Mark chooses that exact moment to come back down, adjusting his tie and looking handsome as ever. 

He has a question in his eyes and you shake your head no. “Sorry to interrupt but, Dr. Andrews just informed me of a family emergency. Dr. Grey, would you be able to cover his Microdiscectomy?”

“Of course Dr. Sloan,” you say rising out of your seat and placing your unfinished tea in the sink.

“Do you always refer to yourselves as ‘doctor’ or do you use your first names too?”

Thatcher is inappropriate and you don’t remember your dad ever being like this when you were growing up. Or maybe he’s always been this person, but you just never noticed.

“What’s the fun in that? We’re surgeons. We take pride in our efforts, sir,” Mark jokes, grabbing his lunch from the refrigerator. “See you at the hospital Dr. Grey. Mr. Grey, I’ll see you around.”

You’re standing with your arms folded against the sink hoping that Thatcher gets the hint that you want him to leave. You’re not religious, but you silently thank God that Arizona and Callie had all three kids today.  

“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Thatcher sighs, pulling on his coat and pushing his chair in. “I’ll be at the Best Western a few miles away. I want to continue this conversation, Alexandra. I want to fix what I broke.”

You follow him to the door and don’t say anything. He takes a good look at you - his sunken eyes glossing over your features. Your wavy dark brown hair, your slightly aged complexion since you last saw him. The support bandage around your leg and the few extra pounds around your stomach that you’ve been trying your best to burn off.

You’re self conscious now, but he just smiles softly but not without longing and pain in his eyes. Maybe he’s aware of what he’s missed out on, maybe he’s afraid of not being in Derek Jr.’s life.

Maybe he’s remorseful about the last few years, but you can’t take the chance of getting hurt by a Grey again.

You shut the door as soon as you can and press your body against the closed door and release the large breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

 

///

 

Hours later, Thatcher Grey turned the lights of his hotel room on, threw his keys and his coat down and sprawled out on the fifty four dollars a night king sized bed.

“It sure feels like fifty four bucks,” he says to no one in particular. Normally on days like this, he'd tear open a bottle and call it in for the day over reruns of baseball games and _Law & Order. _

But he's turned over a new, quiet and boring leaf. The slowly balding man holds his outdated flip phone away from his face and dials a number he never used to use unless absolutely necessary. 

The other line rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. Thatcher is kind of relieved, if he was being honest with himself.

“ _Richard, it's Thatcher. I just saw Lexie and Sloan and it didn't exactly go well, you know. I'm- I’m not good at these things. Normally I wouldn't ask but- I think you need to come here and see for yourself. I think they have something good going._

_“I went by the hospital - it's beautiful. And their house? The money they got from the crash was well spent, I'll tell you that much. I'm not sure Lexie will listen to me about this. I- she- she could hardly look at me, Richard. I'm afraid it might be too late._

_“Anyway, call me back when you can. I'll be here for another few days. Have a good night, bud.”_

Thatcher hung up the line and sat up slowly in the bed, searching for the television remote. He flipped onto channel four and to his luck, _Law & Order _was on. He ordered room service minutes later and poured himself a glass of water instead of looking into the small bottles resting in the mini fridge.

He and Richard weren't that close, but they shared grief. And Thatcher knew that he would be disappointed if he had relapsed again.

Instead, the older man took out some photos out of his jacket pocket - a few photos of Lexie, Meredith and Molly.

There was one picture - the only one in existence - of Meredith with Lexie when they were babies. “I'm sorry I never told you Meredith,” he says to the ceiling. “I'm sorry I never told you that you and your sister _had_ met.”

He looks back to the baby photo of his two daughters, one deceased, one who didn't want anything to do with him.  

  
_“_ And I'm sorry that I cut and run from your life because your mother took a part of me that I'll never get back. But I'm going to make things right. If it's the last thing I do.”


	3. carry you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, it's been a while. Sorry for taking so long with the final installment of this story, but I figured it was long overdue. Thanks for sticking around if you have. 
> 
> As always all mistakes are my own since I have no beta.
> 
> Follow me @ackcrs on Twitter.

“Mark, are you sure you want to do this? I mean it’s insane, this is insane.”  Calliope Torres was having a mental breakdown in what was soon to be her office. “I can’t do this.” 

 

“Torres, you can and you will,” you reassure your best friend. “If anyone is good at time management and letting it be known when they don’t do their job right, it’s you.” 

 

Callie squints her eyes at you. “That was a backhanded compliment.” 

 

You laugh at her and duck your head. “It wasn’t, it was just a compliment. You deserve to be Chief of Surgery, Torres. This is your hospital just as much as it’s mine, Lexie’s and Arizona’s. You’ve earned this. And besides,” you point out. “We all took a vote.” 

 

The door creaks open behind Callie. “He’s right,” your wife whispers, plopping herself on the couch and pulling a sleeping Derek Jr. onto her lap. “You’re the best woman for the job Dr. Torres.” 

 

You sit next to Lexie while Arizona whispers something to her wife. The blonde is grinning with both hands on Callie’s shoulders and it looks like her words are getting to her. You knew that Callie wanted to be Chief since you opened up Grey-Shepherd Memorial, but she thought it would be too much for her.  

 

You had liked being Chief once, but now with a toddler and a baby around the house? You wanted to dedicate your time to them and your wife.  

 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Mark?” Lexie kept rocking Derek Jr. in her arms, but you took him instead, giving her a small break. “I know you love the office. Well, _we_ love the office.” 

 

“I’m pretty sure Derek was conceived on this couch,” you smirk sultrily. “It was a good run. But if I’m being honest here, Lex, I miss doing groundbreaking surgeries. I want to put Plastics on the map here. And have more time for you and the kids, of course.” 

 

“I love you,” Lexie smiles goofily and places a kiss on your scruffy cheek.  

 

// 

 

 _“It's a boy,” you say to Callie and Arizona who are at home with Zola and Sofia at home. You're being loud in the hall of your own hospital so you don't really care - you're a father again but this time, it's yours and Lexie's child._  

 

 _You're so overwhelmed with that realization that you quickly hang up from an overexcited Callie and Arizona. You walk away from a few others who are in the waiting area and burst into tears in the corridor. Because this is what you've wanted for so long - a family with the love of your life._  

 

 _And no, biology never meant much to you (Lexie learned to see Sofia as her own very quickly), but your son is a product of your undying devotion to one another. Yours and Lexie's._  

 

 _And considering all you've been through with the plane crash, adopting Zola so quickly, Lexie's recovery and mending your marriage - well, you deserve some happy. In fact, all you want to do is spend time with your wife and your kids._  

 

 _By the time you get back to the room, Lexie's holding your son and looking at his ten fingers and toes with more adoration than you've ever seen in your life. Your heart feels like it's going to explode out of your chest when she picks her head up and notices you in the doorway._  

 

 _“I'm obsessed with him,” your wife says, her face flushed and left over sweat over both her brows. You take a cloth out of one of the drawers, run it under cold water in the sink, then squeegee it out._  

 

 _“That's what happens when you become a parent,” you tell her, dabbing the cloth over her face, wiping away the excess oil from her skin. You place the towel onto the table adjacent to the hospital bed and climb into bed with your wife and son, wrapping your arm around them both._  

 

 _“I'm already a parent,” Lexie says, talking about Zola and Sofia. “But this is different. He came out of my body, I felt him grow and- he's_ ours _Mark. He's ours and I never thought-”_  

 

 _Before she could finish her sentence, you kiss her now clean forehead and place your hand on top of one of hers that's holding your son. You knew what she was going to say, but you wanted to put the pain of the last year and a half behind you, something you were more than happy to do._  

 

 _“I know. It only makes this that much more special.”_  

 

 _“Not even just the plane crash. Before that we- I wasn't even sure you loved me anymore,” Lexie says, with a mirthless laugh. “I was pining over your for months. It was pathetic.”_  

 

 _You don't even hide your shock._  

 

 _“Months? You mean to tell me that you wanted to get back together with me months before you told me?” Your wife nods and starts to rock your son a little as he stirs in his sleep. “Why didn't you say anything?”_  

 

 _Lexie shrugs noncommittally. “I was confused for a long time. Jackson. You. Neuro. Did I want to start a family or did I want something different. Honestly? I was just scared of all these things I couldn't ignore anymore.”_  

 

 _You nod in understanding._  

 

 _“And then you blurted it out because you couldn't hold it in any longer,” you safely assume, and your wife nods again, glancing between you and your son._  

 

“ _Something like that. I think I just - finally had enough, you know? Like-if, it was as if it was my own way of saying I was ready for everything. Everything you had always wanted for us. A home, a family, a marriage._  

 _“I let my fear of missing out dictate my life for a while, but when I saw you with Julia I- I snapped.”_  

 

 _You grin thinking back on the Seattle Grace Mercy West vs. Seattle Press baseball game. “You threw a baseball at her boob.”_  

 

 _Lexie looks a bit embarrassed at that. It's the most adorable thing you've ever seen. “Whatever,” she smiles, shaking the comment off. “Seeing you with her reminded me of what I was missing out on, you know?”_  

 

 _“I know a thing or two about that. Why do you think I acted so crazy when you were with Alex? And I tried not to hate Avery when you were with him, but he was tough to hate. The kid has the hands of a young god,” you admit proudly. You make a mental note to give him a call later, it's been a few weeks since you've spoken to him._  

 

 _“Jackson is a good man,” Lexie nods. “He broke up with me because we both wound up choosing you.”_  

 

 _You smirk at that. “I don't blame you. The two of you have great taste.”_  

 

 _“I see why called you_ _McSteamy_ _,” your wife throws at you with a quirk of her brow._  

 

 _Your baby starts to stir again and your attention refocuses on the child that hasn't left your wife’s arms. “The little guy needs a name.”_  

 

 _“I actually had something in mind,” Lexie says, shifting the baby so she can run her free hand through your hair. You wrap your arm around hers so your son is more secure. “I know we were thinking of Julian but considering what we have is a mere miracle-”_  

 

 _“Derek. Derek Grey-Sloan.”_  

 

 _Your wife nods, not really shocked that you knew her thought process. The two of you were always in sync in that way._  

 

 _“Yeah. Derek Grey-Sloan. Our son.”_  

 

 _//_  

 

Your wife walks through the door a little later than she usually does. You have steaks and vegetables on the grill and Zola and Sofia are preoccupied with some show about superhero aliens on the flatscreen. Derek is sleeping in his crib which you moved into the kitchen so you could watch him. 

 

Your wife kisses Sofia and Zola on the head before tearing off her coat and hanging it in the  

 

“Rough day?” You ask Lexie, as she huffs and throws her duffel bag onto the kitchen counter. She angrily moves a few strands of hair away from her face and turns to look up at you. Her eyes are dark and that could only mean one of two things. 

 

 _One: She’s sexually frustrated._  

 

“You could say that,” she growls. “My father took it upon himself to call Richard Webber and then both of them cornered me after an eight hour surgery.” 

 

 _Or two: she's livid._  

 

You're guessing it's option two in this case. Your sex life consisted of on call rooms these days, but regardless, it was still doing just fine. You were married for almost two years by now and you still haven’t lost your attraction for one another - it’s more than most couples could say, you think. 

 

“Richard? What’s he doing in Oregon?” You walk into the backyard to check on your steaks and your wife follows at a comfortable pace behind. They still need a few minutes, so you flip them and close the grill while your wife spoke. 

 

“He offered me a job,” Lexie cuts straight to it, not mincing her words. “Apparently he and Thatcher have been in contact since Meredith died and they thought it’d be a good idea to ambush me.” 

 

She’s annoyed, but there’s something in her voice that alarms you. Lexie’s conflicted, that much you know. So you press on.  

 

“What did Richard offer you, Lex?” 

 

Lexie sighs and sits down on one of the plastic chairs surrounding the table on the deck. You join her, for a few moments, the steaks still needing a solid ten minutes to finish cooking. 

 

“They need a head of Neuro at Grey-Shepherd,” your wife explained. “Full benefits, a raise in a year, and funds to start the clinical trial I’ve been meaning to pitch to Chief Torres but haven’t gotten around to. It’s nearly perfect.” 

 

You let Lexie’s words sink in - the thought of moving back to Seattle gives you anxiety. The plane crash, everything that happened after flashing before your eyes. None of the good, all of the bad.  

 

“So you’re considering it,” you say, more than ask. There’s no point in dancing around it. 

 

“Yes,” the brunette agrees hesitantly. 

 

But you never wanted to be the one to hold Alexandra Grey back from anything she wanted to do. Even if you were her home, so was Thatcher and even Richard. So was Seattle. 

 

“If that is what will make you happy Lex, you need to do it. I won’t hold you back,” you say thickly, biting back the sadness in your voice. Before Lexie can say anything further, you slam the glass door as you walk inside the house, leaving your wife and the steaks out to burn. 

 

// 

 

 _You know that avoiding her gaze and  passive aggressively passing the potatoes at the dinner table is petty, you do. But you can’t exactly help it. Your wife may be moving you back to the place you came to Portland to get away from._  

 

 _Truthfully, you know you don’t want to leave Callie and Arizona and the facility you’ve built together. The family you’ve built together. But you know that you have to go if that’s what Lexie decides. Even if Sofia is here, you know that she’s okay with her two other parents. Derek and Zola deserve to have their parents in the same home, the same state. And you can’t imagine being a plane ride away from your wife. It’d probably make your PTSD even worse to get on flights all the time._  

 

 _Despite the logic running through your brain, you still are angry with her for making you feel so conflicted. Even if the real reason she’s even considering this is because of Thatcher and Richard, not the job._  

 

 _“Mark, can I speak to you upstairs for a moment?” Lexie asked after you finished your meal and left the kids in the living room. Zola was old enough to keep watch of Derek, so you felt confident with him in his playpen and she on the couch watching cartoons._  

 

 _The slender brunette is already sitting on the edge of your king size bed with her hands folded in her lap, eyes attentive to you when you stop in the doorframe. “You wanted to talk?”_  

 

 _You manage to look her in the eyes, but it’s a guarded stare. Lexie gets up from the bed and pulls you into the room fully and closes the door. So the kids can’t hear the fight that’s about to ensue, you presume._  

 

 _“What’s going on with you?”_  

 

 _You scoff because she knows exactly why you’ve been behaving the way you are. “You’re really asking me that?”_  

 

 _“Mark, I-you stormed out on the conversation before I can say anything and then give me the cold shoulder? What are you, twelve?”_  

 

 _“Thirteen,” you answer sardonically. Eventually you throw your hands up in surrender. “I don’t want go back to Seattle, Lex. We’ve worked too hard, made a life here in order to get away from all of the shit that place has handed us. I know what Webber is offering you is probably better than what Torres can offer you but-”_  

 _“You idiot,” Lexie interrupts with a grin on her face. If you weren’t so confused, you’d probably be angry that your was laughing at such a serious moment. “You really think I want to leave Portland?_ _Now?_ _” Your eyebrows furrow and the brunette takes her hands in your rough ones. “We have a family now, Mark. I can’t just make this_ _huge_ _decision and just expect you to go along with it. That isn’t what a marriage is.”_  

 

 _You relax a bit, your anxieties slowly slipping from your body and into thin air. “So you’re not taking Webber’s offer?”_  

 

 _Lexie actually laughs this time, as if surprised that you’d ask something so ludicrous. “Are you kidding? You really thought I’d say yes to Richard and my father, two men who I haven’t seen in almost two years? Two men who hardly called let alone visited after I nearly lost my life? After I lost my sister?”_  

 

 _Thinking on it, you realize that maybe you jumped to conclusions. You should’ve given Lexie the benefit of the doubt. After all, she does have a good head on her shoulders - although she_ _did_ _marry you, so you never know. “I’m sorry,” you say, cupping her cheeks and grazing her lips with yours momentarily._  

 

 _“It’s okay. I probably would’ve reacted the same way if the roles were reversed,” Lexie sighed into your chest. You wrapped your arms around her and squeezed softly, the thought of her leaving still aching at the back of your mind. “I wouldn’t uproot our whole family back to Seattle like that. You just got your job in Plastics back and Callie and Arizona are here I- I don’t want you to think I’m not happy here, because I am. There’s nothing for me in Seattle anymore.”_  

 

 _“Except your father and Richard Webber,” you point out._  

 

 _“If they cared about me so much, they would’ve made plans to visit us, not give me incentive to move back to a place that never did either of us any favors,” the brunette whispers against your body. “I only stayed for Meredith, you know.”_  

 

 _“And I only stayed for Derek,” you nod, remembering that you and your wife had more in common than you thought back then. You’d both do anything for the people you love. “They’re gone.”_  

 

 _“They’re gone,” she agrees, shaking her head. “And that’s what I told Richard. That being in Seattle was like suffocating. A reminder of what I lost and I don’t want to be back there, I don’t. It’d be moving a hundred steps backwards.”_  

 

 _You’re in such awe of Lexie - at how much she’s gotten herself together in the last few years. Even if it was the trauma that allowed her to do so. You’re proud of her in this moment._  

 

 _“And what did Thatcher say to that? Although I’m sure neither of them were too happy,” you grin._  

 

 _“Surprisingly, my dad understood. Richard was a bit taken aback, but I think he’ll get over it eventually. If they want to be a part of my_ _lif_ _-_ _our_ _lives, they can call. They can get on a plane,” Lexie says adamantly, lifting her head from your chest and smacking your arm for laughing. “Are you_ _laughing_ _at the word ‘plane?’”_  

 

 _“No, no of course not. I’m just- you called Thatcher ‘dad,’” you grinned, poking your finger into Lexie’s side._  

 

 _“Oh shut up,” your wife says, and tackles you onto the bed._  

 

 _///_  

 

“All right, this has been a long time coming. When the target enters from the northern exit, you catch him off guard. The element of surprise is what we’re banking on. Excessive force isn't ideal, but we'll do what we have to. Is that clear?” 

 

“I speak two languages and I still don’t get it,” Sofia huffs in confusion. Zola nodded in agreement while Derek Jr. started sticking the Nerf sword into his mouth. 

 

“Attack your father when he walks through the door," Lexie groans, adjusting the baseball cap on her head. Her disguise, she'd convinced herself.  "C’mon little people, get in position!” 

 

A few moments later, Mark approached the porch, fumbling with his keys while he juggled them along with his hefty messenger bag and the newspaper he had picked up.  

 

Something had felt off to the soon to be silver fox – the house just seemed too quiet. "Hello. Anybody home?"  

 

The family car was in the driveway so Mark knew that his wife hadn't taken the kids to the park. Scenarios ran wildly through his head before he saw tiny hands holding an orange gun peaking out from behind the wall. 

 

If there was one thing that Mark Sloan prided himself on, it was his ability to be prepared in any given situation. He quietly hung his coat and reached for the closet on the left hand side where he kept his own personal N-Strike Elite. As he was loading up though, Mark left his back to the living room, leaving himself open for attack. 

 

"Now," he heard yelled from behind him as an influx of Nerf bullets flew past his head, some hitting him in the back as he attempted to load his own gun.  

 

Lexie, dressed in camo pants, a white tank top and war paint (most likely a combination of different types of makeup) ducked down for cover behind the couch. If Lexie was anything, she was thorough. Mark didn't underestimate her plans – her photographic memory assisting her in her and the kids' strategy. 

 

"Derek, buddy, when did you get so good at shooting in a dress?" Mark asked his son, who found he was more comfortable in Zola's old dresses than the slacks and t-shirts that Thatcher got him. The toddler made some sort of high pitched noise and ran over to his father, smacking him with the toy gun in his hands. 

 

"He's been practicing," Lexie threw over the couch, ducking for cover after trying to get a bunch of shots in, one hitting her husband square in the face. "Can't say the same for you." 

 

"Are they fighting?" Zola asked Sofia who shrugged her shoulders and shot her gun a few times at Mark, who picked up Derek Jr. And used him as a shield while he shot off some rounds of his own. 

 

"We're not fighting sweetheart," Mark yelled across the room. The four of them were so preoccupied with attacking Mark that they didn't hear the door swing open. It wasn't a family battle without Callie and Arizona, who were too dressed like they were prepared for a fight. The couple were dressed in shorts and t-shirts that matched, prepared like Lexie had been. "Finally, some reinforcements. Including our very new Chief of Surgery."  

 

The plastic surgeon was smug in his assumption that Arizona and Callie were here to help him. "You think we're here for you?" Callie asked with her eyebrow raised. She let off a round of shots at Mark and he continued to be ambushed by the people he loved the most in life. 

 

Lexie stepped back and watch the scene unfold before her and she grinned widely before rejoining her family.  

 

 _M_ _eant to be_. 


End file.
